In the Echoing Silence
by Zab Jade
Summary: Bluestreak was just a normal youngling in a neutral city with an overprotective older sister and a manipulative roommate. Then he finally stood up for himself and doomed his city to destruction.
1. Chapter 1

**In the Echoing Silence**

**Disclaimer: **The Transformers belong to Hasbro, not me, though I do own the original characters needed for this story.

**Author's Note: **This takes place on Cybertron, before Bluestreak's city was destroyed. According to his bio, he talks in order to keep himself sane. It's therefore reasonable to assume that he didn't talk as much before there was a threat to his sanity.

**Author's Note 2:** I've looked at lists of Transformers time units, and it's all fairly confusing and contradictory depending on what you use as a source (I go by the G1 cartoon for the most part). Because of this, and also to make this easier to read, I'm translating all time units into human.

--

It happened between one air intake and the next, a moment of perfect silence when even the wind he'd sensed against his doorwings stilled, as if it too was straining to hear the faintest sound. And in that perfect, frozen moment, the young hunter model caressed the trigger of his rifle, smoothly pulling it back and watching the released beam of light as it sped through the junkyard towards its target.

It hit its mark and the moment was gone. He drew in that next intake of air as the wind returned and the silence was shattered by the screech of a dying energy leech and a panicked scream. He felt satisfaction in the shot and a wistful longing for that perfect moment, but then both emotions were washed away by guilt. Shard may have screwed him over, but that didn't give him the right to frighten his friend.

"What in the pit is wrong with you, you lunatic?" Shard shrieked, his voice higher than usual.

"Sorry about that," Bluestreak called out, picking up his collection bag and trotting over to the other mech and the dead parasite. He grabbed the fat metal creature and held it up. _It didn't latch onto Shard, but it looks like this fella's been eating well._ "You had an unwelcome admirer. It must be a femme. You know that custom frame of yours drives them all wild."

"Oh, shut up and put that thing down." Shard shuddered in disgust, his faceted, prismatic outer plating catching and reflecting the distant city lights in a shimmering pattern that overlaid the dark blue base. "It's disgusting."

"It's dinner," Bluestreak corrected, a slight edge to his voice as he dropped the energy leech into his bag with the bits of wire and colored glass he'd collected so far. "Energy is energy, and we can't exactly afford the good stuff right now." _Because of you._

The words weren't spoken, but they were evident in the hostile cant of doorwings and the brief, angry flash of green optics.

Shard's purple optics dimmed slightly in a wince, and he looked away. "I'm sorry, okay? I thought I'd at least break even. I didn't mean to lose the rent credits."

"How about stealing them from me in the first place? Did you mean to do that, or did they just magically get into your subspace on their own after you gave me your share?" Bluestreak snapped before he could stop himself. He knew from years of being Shard's friend and roommate that getting angry never solved anything.

"Slag it, Blue, what's done is done! Being nasty about it isn't going to bring the credits back." Shard glared at him and crossed his arms over his chest. "I know I screwed up, okay? You don't have to rub it in. Maybe I should have just died with the rest of my family so I wouldn't be such a burden and inconvenience to you."

Bluestreak sighed, his doorwings drooping. _Frag it, I'm such a jerk, _he thought. He'd had to deplete what little savings he'd had to manage his half of the rent for a second time and to cover Shard's as well, but that was nothing compared to the hardships Shard had endured in his life. "I'm sorry. I just-"

"You just what? Forgot that I lost my family and lifestyle because of the stupid war between the Autobots and the Decepticons?"

"I'm sorry," Bluestreak repeated in a barely audible whisper. He was all that Shard had, and sometimes he hated it. It was hard being the other mech's only anchor.

"Hn. Well, there _is_ something you could do for me if you really are sorry," Shard said, a sly tone in his voice.

Bluestreak sighed in relief and hefted the sack over his shoulder. If Shard was already asking for favors, then he wasn't too upset. "Come on. You can tell me about it after we leave the junkyard. I still have work to do."

They continued trudging through the piles of junk, Bluestreak stopping every once in a while to collect any particularly nice chunks of metal, shiny wires, or bright pieces of glass. His sister would be able to make sculptures from the metal while he could use the wires and glass to create body ornaments.

He was reaching down for a glittering piece of purple glass fifteen minutes later when he felt it: the tingle of a sonar hit against the delicate sensors in his right doorwing. He swiftly rose to his feet and pulled his gun from subspace, both doorwings twitching as they detected the exact wind speed and direction. He adjusted his aim accordingly and fired into the air, smiling as a large boltbat dropped from the sky.

He laughed and glanced over at Shard with a grin, his mood greatly improved. "Was that an awesome shot, or what?"

"Oh wow, a hunter model managed to shoot something. How impressive," Shard drawled with good-natured sarcasm as said hunter model grabbed and bagged the bat.

"Pfft. Not all hunters are created equal, you know. Silver couldn't have done it." It was true, but he immediately felt bad for saying it. Silverstreak spent a lot of her time minding the shop and didn't have a lot to spare for practicing her aim. "Come on, let's head back to the city."

They took their time as they waded back through the junk. Bluestreak wasn't in any hurry to hear about the favor Shard wanted – they had a tendency to get him into trouble – and he enjoyed the silence of the junkyard. Oh, he liked the hustle and bustle of the city as much as the next mech, but he'd always found silence oddly soothing and peaceful. The walk to the gate couldn't last forever, though, and his friend began speaking the moment they went through it.

"So, about that favor. I owe some people, and they said they'd forgive it if I could find them a shooter."

Bluestreak stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Shard incredulously. "You want me to _shoot_ someone? Are you insane?"

"No, no, no, they don't need anyone shot," the crystalline mech hurriedly assured him. "That's why they want someone really good with a gun, so there won't be any accidental shooting."

The gray hunter nodded slightly and started walking again. That actually made some sense. The less familiar someone was with a gun, the more likely they were to shoot it when they didn't mean to. "What's the job?"

"They just want to send you with one of their guys tomorrow to have a talk with some deadbeat slagger who isn't doing a thing about what he owes them. Your job is just to scare him a bit. You can do that, right, Blue?"

Bluestreak heaved a long, drawn-out sigh, his doorwings drooping all the way down. "Yeah, I can do that," he mumbled. He didn't want to, but he could, and would, do it.

"Thanks, Blue." Shard patted him on the shoulder, either ignoring or unaware of the universal signal of hunter unhappiness.

_Could be either. In five years of living in a predominantly hunter section of the city, he's never bothered to learn much doorwing, and he doesn't really give a slag about other people's feelings._ Bluestreak mentally winced at the uncharitable thought. It had to be hard to make an emotional attachment to people after losing everyone you cared about. _I lost my creators, but I still have Silver._

"Hey, Shard, wait!" he called out as his friend headed off towards their apartment. He pulled the boltbat out of his bag and tossed it to him. "Your dinner."

Shard caught the bat and looked at it in mild disgust. "Ah well, at least it isn't a leech. See you later, Blue."

Once he was out of sight, Bluestreak forced his doorwings up into a cheerful cant and started towards his sister's shop.

**…**

"I'm back," Bluestreak called as he entered the shop. It was small and dim, but the merchandise was neatly arranged and everything was clean. Unfortunately, it was also empty save for Bluestreak himself and the silvery-blue hunter femme behind the counter. They sold a few useful things and basic energy rations, but most of their stock was knickknacks, which weren't selling well due to the war.

"Hey there, baby Blue," Silverstreak said with a smile, her doorwings sweeping upward in a pleased greeting.

He twitched his own up into a similar greeting as he approached, then flicked them in amused irritation. "Don't call me that," he grumbled. "I'm not a sparkling anymore."

"You'll always be a sparkling to me, little brother." She grinned impishly at him as he passed the counter on his way to the back room. "Just be glad I stopped covering you in glitter and pink temporary paint after you upgraded from your sparkling body shell."

"We both know you only stopped doing that because I looked cuter in all that femme stuff than you did," he said with a wicked little smirk. He laughed and darted into the back, just barely avoiding the mini-buffer she threw at him.

With a slight bounce to his step, he went to his work area and rummaged through one of the desk drawers until he found an energy siphon, some adhesive, and a handful of magnets. Then he settled himself on top of the desk and began looking through the things in his bag, taking out the leech and several wires and glass fragments.

The intricate little body ornaments he made were one of the few non-essentials that were selling well, though it was for a fairly depressing reason. There were only so many body types per city section, and the ornaments were an extra way of identifying the bodies of loved ones if they got caught between the Autobots and Decepticons.

Once he'd selected the wires and glass he wanted, he punctured the leech with the siphon and took a drink, shuddering slightly at the weird after taste. _Bleh. I don't think I want to know what this thing's been eating. Oh well, it tastes terrible but energy is energy._

"_Bluestreak!_" He jerked at the outraged shriek, coughing as the energy tried to go down his air intakes. "What do you think you're _doing_?"

"Um… making body ornaments and having dinner?" he replied once his coughing fit was over. Silverstreak stood at the doorway, optics bright with indignation.

She marched over to him and snatched the leech away. "No, Bluestreak. Bad." There was a clang as she smacked him on the head with it as if he were a misbehaving cyberpuppy. "This is not food. It's a parasite. We put them in the trash, not our mouths."

"Ugh. You are Shard are both so squeamish. Okay, leeches aren't the best tasting things out there, but no one has ever died from eating one." He thought about that for a minute and about all of the dubious energy sources leeches had access to. "Probably."

Silverstreak just glared at him and swept out the door with the leech, muttering something unflattering about the intelligence of young mechs. She came back a few minutes later, sans leech, and set an energy ration on the desk beside him. He stared at it uneasily. He was still a youngling, and she was still technically his guardian, but he didn't like it when she had to go out of her way to take care of him.

"Don't frown at it, drink it," she snapped. "It's my merchandise, and I can do whatever I want with it, including pouring it down your throat if necessary."

He could tell from her tone that she really would do it, so he picked up the energy ration, muttering under his breath about overprotective worrywarts. He expected her to leave, but she stayed, quietly watching as he started weaving together one of his creations, using the adhesive to attach magnets and bits of glass to the multi-colored wires.

Silverstreak gently took it from him once he finished and set a small pile of credits on the desk. "I'm buying this one," she said softly before he could protest. "Your landlady contacted me today and told me what happened. She said she would have let you slide this rent period, except she knew it would upset you."

He started to explain, but she shook her head, silently cutting him off. "I don't want to hear you defend him, Blue. He's a self-centered user, and the only reason he's your friend and roommate is because you're too nice for your own good. I'm not going to tell you who you can be friends with, and I'm not going to try to run your life. But I slagging well am going to do whatever I can to make sure you're properly taken care of."

She went back to the main part of the shop then, leaving Bluestreak alone to work and think about the friendship that usually made him feel alone and emotionally exhausted.


	2. Chapter 2

**In the Echoing Silence**

**Chapter Two**

**Disclaimer: **The Transformers belong to Hasbro, not me, though I do own the original characters needed for this story.

**Author's Note: **Transformers age differently than humans do, of course. That being said, here are the rough human equivalents for the ages of Bluestreak, Shard, and Silverstreak. Bluestreak – 16ish. Basically, he can do a lot of adult things with permission from Silver, his legal-guardian, but is not yet an adult; Shard – roughly 25 and adult but still youngish; Silverstreak – mid-thirties or so.

**Dedication: **This is dedicated to a good friend of mine who RPs as Perceptor on the CiD forum. Thanks for being so enthusiastic about the whole hunter concept and helping me evolve the pack structures. You're awesome. ^__^ It's also dedicated to my cat, Ari. Rest in peace, sweetie. I miss you.

**--**

Bluestreak tried not to fidget as he followed a large mech named Crunch through the narrow streets of one of the poorer sections of the city. The bulky green and orange construction model kept glancing at him dubiously, which only increased the young hunter's nervousness.

_Get it together, Blue. You're just supposed to scare someone into paying what they owe. It's not really legal, but it's not really bad either. No one is going to get hurt, and it's not like anyone forced this guy to gamble._

Finally, they arrived at a shop even smaller than Silverstreak's and went in, Bluestreak bringing his rifle out of subspace. His unease increased as Crunch led the way to the only two people in the store; the tired-looking teal femme behind the counter and the sparkling beside her.

_She has a gambling debt?_ he thought with an uncomfortable mix of disgust and understanding. A big win could do a lot to improve her life, but how could she have risked the debt she was now stuck with when she had a little one to take care of? _It's too bad she's not a hunter model. Then her pack and community would have helped her. She wouldn't have been put into this position._

"Hey there, Sleek," Crunch said, putting his hands on the counter and leaning in close to violate her personal space. "You're late with your protection money."

If he had been anything other than a hunter, Bluestreak would have dropped his rifle as a feeling of numb disbelief washed through him. _Pro-protection money?_ He felt slimy and sick. The femme hadn't done anything other than set up shop in a part of the city run by criminals and bullies. And because of Shard, he was one of those criminals and bullies.

_Shard._ Rage filled him at the thought of the older mech, finally snapping the stretched and thin bond of friendship. He had turned his own life upside down to make things easier for Shard, to make sure he had at least one person to count on, and this, _this_, was how he was repaid?

Even as he seethed over the treatment he'd received from his "friend," various tactics and strategies ran through his CPU. Forcing Crunch to leave without the credits would only make things worse for the femme in the long run. He couldn't exactly camp out in her store to try to keep her safe, and if she had somewhere better to be, she obviously would have already been there. Killing Crunch would be just as useless, even assuming Bluestreak could bring himself to do it. There was only one solution he could think of, and it was only a temporary one.

"How much does she owe?" he asked quietly. He had the ninety-three credits he'd been left with after the rent incident, plus the twenty Silverstreak had given him.

Two pairs of optics stared at him in disbelief, the emotion combined with disgust in one set and confusion and dull hope in the other.

"Look, kid, you can't get far in this business if you-"

"I'm not interested in this business," Bluestreak said coldly, cutting the other mech off. "I'm only here as a favor to someone I thought was my friend, and I never agreed to help collect protection money." He shifted slightly, flipping his shoulder guns up from behind his back and aiming them and his rifle at Crunch. "There's two ways this can go down. You can collect the credits from me, or you can leave empty-handed, which will only cause more problems for all of us. Which is it going to be?"

Crunch studied him with narrowed optics. "Hn. Fine, kid. She owes one-hundred credits, and I don't really care who I get them from."

Bluestreak nodded stiffly. "I just have one question before I pay you," he said, his voice low and grim. "Did Shard know?"

* * *

Hunters living in the same area tended to form a tight-knit community of loosely interwoven packs, guided by the experience and advice of those too old to effectively hunt. Mere moments after Bluestreak contacted his sister, his entire neighborhood knew all of the details. The news traveled by voice and the movements of doorwings and was greeted with a mix of anger and a sort of grim pleasure. They'd tolerated an obnoxious outsider for the sake of one of their youngest for over two years, and now that he'd finally pushed Bluestreak too far, they no longer had to put up with him.

The darkly celebratory mood seemed to permeate the very air, but Bluestreak was too caught up in his own anger and misery to even notice. _Why? Why did that slagging aftface do this? I was his friend!_ Two years wasn't a long time at all, but during that time, Bluestreak had ended up distancing himself from his community and even his pack, unconsciously giving in to Shard's need to be the main focus of someone else's attention. If he followed through with kicking Shard out of his life, who would he have left?

There was the pack, of course, made up of Rift, Tracer, Digger, Shadowsong, and Silverstreak, but it was his sister's and he didn't really belong. She'd always been there for him, though, even though he'd ignored her advice about Shard and had moved out, leaving her by herself since she refused to leave the shop and live with the rest of the pack. That last, at least, would change. As soon as he'd told Silver what had happened, she'd used her power as his legal guardian to revoke his right to live away from her.

His doorwings drooped as low as they could go as he trudged towards home, his thoughts bleak and self-mocking. He was abruptly pulled out of those thoughts by his body being pulled by several hands from the street and into a small café. Before his CPU could even register what was happening, he was being forced down into a seat at a table while the owner set an energy ration in front of him.

Bluestreak stared at it blankly for a minute, then looked up at the café owner, a hunter mech of a larger variant than his own. "I can't aff-"

"It's free," the mech, Scattershot, said, cutting him off gruffly and giving him an affectionate pat on the head. Scattershot had been part of his creators' pack, the pack he himself had been part of until Silver had left the family pack to join her adult pack and had taken him with her. "This is my place, and if I want to give a free treat to a kid I helped raise, I can slaggin' well do it."

Those words banished all of Bluestreak's thoughts of being alone, and he slowly looked around at the others in the café. Several mechs and a few femmes were there, talking easily amongst themselves. Hunters in a community looked after their own, even when they weren't in the same pack. These people were his friends and neighbors, and they had helped raise him after his creators died, even the ones with no direct responsibility towards him at all. They weren't going to abandon him just because he'd been a naïve moron for two years.

"Thanks, Scattershot," he said quietly, taking a sip of the energy ration. He couldn't tell all of the various additives that had been used, but it gave the energy a richer, more complex flavor with a hint of sweetness to it that indicated at least one ingredient was lead shavings.

"Hey, Blue-boy," one of the other mechs called out casually. "We're planning a multi-pack training hunt for the younglings in a few days. You want in on it?"

"Um… well, I can'-" He started the same response he'd given for the past two years, that he couldn't because Shard would feel left out and alone, and then stopped himself. Shard wasn't an issue anymore. "Actually, yeah, I do want in on it. Tripcharger probably thinks he's a better shot than me by now, and I can't let that misconception stand."

The mech who had brought up the training hunt threw his head back and laughed. "My boy's been scoring the highest out of all of the younglings lately, and he's been crowing about it. I'll radio Trip to let him know you're planning on getting your title back. He and Flashpoint are at your place right now, waiting to help you get your things packed up."

"I guess I should head over there, then." He finished his energy ration and got up, flashing them all a warm smile before heading out the door.

* * *

Tripcharger and Flashpoint were out in front of his building, waiting for him. He slowed and looked down, unable to meet their optics. They had been his best friends for most of his life, and they always been for each other. Until Shard, who hated it when he spent time with anyone else.

Bluestreak knew, in his processor at least, that Trip and Flash would stand by him, that the three of them would form a pack once they were old enough, adding others as they met hunters that fit in with them. In his spark, though, he was ashamed of his behavior and wouldn't blame them if they decided they never wanted anything to do with him.

He finally looked up to see them both staring at him, their doorwings held at sensor mode and not giving any indication of what they were feeling. Then Tripcharger strode toward him and smacked him upside the head before pulling him into as close a hug as two hunter models of their variant could manage.

* * *

While Bluestreak met up with Flashpoint and Tripcharger to gather his things, a chase was taking place in the skies above the city between a red Autobot flyer and a blue seeker. The Autobot was hit, and, unnoticed in the heat of battle, the very object that was the entire reason for the chase fell to the ground.

* * *

Later that evening, Bluestreak wandered through the streets, his doorwings down but not fully drooped. His sister's entire pack had been visiting the shop when he'd returned. It had made him feel awkward and out-of-place, especially after the feeling of belonging he'd experienced with Trip and Flash. He'd never really belonged, and he didn't really think Silver did either.

Tracer and Silverstreak had been best friends growing up – the both of them often giggling together as they covered him in glitter and pink temporary paint - and the sapphire and emerald femme had begged the pack leader, Rift, to invite Silver into the pack as soon as they were all old enough. His sister had accepted mainly because having a sparkling to care for hadn't given her many options.

Bluestreak sighed and turned down an alley, his optics flickering off and then back on in a surprised blink. There was a weird metal cube on the ground, looking like it had fallen from a great height. His doorwings perked up in curiosity and excitement as he bent to poke at it.

Just as he picked it up, there was a sound from the front of the alley, and he whirled toward, doorwings out in sensor mode. Shard stood there, his faceted, crystalline outer layer of armor reflecting the colors around him.

Shard glared at him. "My debt was forgiven, but I barely got anything as a finder's fee for recommending you for the job. They said something about you being unreliable for future work. How could you screw up a simple collection, Blue?"

"My name is Bluestreak," he said quietly. "Only people I care about can call me Blue. And that wasn't just a 'simple collection.' You signed me up to help scare some poor femme into paying protection money. And don't try to claim you didn't know. I asked."

Shard's expression quickly shifted from faked shock to a disgusted sneer. "Like she even matters. She's just some stupid femme working in a rundown part of town." His purple optics focused on the cube. "I have… contacts… who were asking about that thing. Give it to me so I can sell it, and then we'll work things ou-"

"No. I won't give it to you, and we won't work things out. I'm not stupid. I've known all along that you've been using me, and I'm sick of it. You're on your own, Shard."

While the crystalline mech stared at him in shock, Bluestreak barreled past and transformed into his alt-mode, a sleek, silver oval that tapered to a narrow point.

"Get back here, Blue! Don't you run away from me!" Shard screamed, transforming as well. His alt-mode, a somewhat flattened, ground-bound version of a seeker, had no chance of catching up, but he chased after him anyway, unwilling to allow something he considered his to get away.

While they sped away, a figure stirred in the shadows and cursed quietly. _It just had ta be a hunter kid that found it,_ he thought with a sigh. Hunters kept to themselves for the most part, so there was no way he could get it back without a fight. Luckily, there was another option.

_'I located th' device, but a hunter younglin' got it a hold of it,'_ Jazz radioed. _'I'm gonna need your help on this one, Prowl, man.'_

_'Understood. I will be there shortly.'_


End file.
